Primadonna
by Lady StarrLight
Summary: "The story starts as such: I knew too much." The true story of what happened at the Opéra Populaire in 1870. Carlotta POV.
1. Once Upon a Time

**Hello again! This is a real short chapter but more is coming soon! Long story short, I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, its songs or its characters, but all original characters and themes belong to me. Thanks! Enjoy...**

**-Lady StarrLight**

* * *

I am not loved,

But I once was. Loved by every patron of the Opéra Populaire. Though, that was a long time ago. Once upon a time you may say. But, my story dosen't have a happy ending. Not yet. I'm second rate, cast off, unloved… all because of her

But I'm getting ahead of my self.

The story starts as such: I knew too much.


	2. Curtains

_Roses_. My dressing room was full of roses. _They love me_, I had thought. _The crowd loves me!_ I had to prepare for them. After all, it was the opening night of the opera 'Hannibal' that very night. It was starring me as Elissa, Queen of Carthage, the starring role that was perfect for me. I quickly donned my voluminous costume and applied my outrageous makeup. I felt wonderful. No nervous butterflies. Only silly, inexperienced chorus girls got nervous. No, not I, Carlotta Guidicelli, could not be stained by nervousness. But, suddenly- I was.

When I went to survey myself in the mirror, I swear I saw man in the mirror. A tall, dark, cloaked figure in a mask. I was about to scream when my best friend, Piangi, walked in.

"Piangi!" I screamed, dashing into his arms.

"They all love me," he chuckled.

I released my hold on him and took a step back. "Girls?" I questioned.

"Sure," he replied, laughing.

I glared at him. I knew his secret and he knew all of mine. Why would he feel the need to make jokes about them? So I spat one right back at him.

"Well none of _them_ can have you. Though, we are the most sought after couple at this Opéra."

"We are madly in love!" he sighed sarcastically.

At that, I laughed. Piangi and I aren't having an affair and never will have one. He liked...boys. No one but me knew that secret. To hide form suspicion, we pretended to be an item. The publicity wasn't bad either. Prehaps that was the real basis of our "relationship".

"So what ever was the matter, _ma aime_?"

"Nothing," I said brushing away the topic. I was determined to make Piangi never see me in that state again.

And before he could further question me, I strutted past him, out into the center ring we call the Opéra Populaire.

* * *

"_This trophy from our saviors, from the enslaving force of Rome_!" I sang reaching her dramatic climax of _one_ of my solos in the opera "Hannibal". I strutted around the stage, not caring what the other frilalus dancers and singers where doing, I was the star. I was shining especially bright during this dress rehearsale. My fears of that afternoon had been erased, and I was ready for the thunderous applause I would receive tonight during the premiere of the opera.

When the song ended, and I had hit that final high note of the song, Leférre, the owner of the Opéra Populaire and former friend of my father, clapped his hands and started to lecture. I only half-listened to Leférre babble of his long awaited retirement blah, blah, blah. I only started to listen at the mention of my name.

"Gentleman, Singora Carlotta Guidicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons now," he said thrusting me into the arms of some strange men. "Your new bosses," he mumbled to me knowing that I had not listened to a word he said before.

I let my new bosses, André and Fermain, I had learned, kiss my hands and cheeks and shower me with compliments because, well, I adored it. I adored the constant attention.

André pressured me into singing my wonderful aria from Act III. Wanting to prove myself, I willing agreed.

"Maestro," I called down to the conductor in the pit. The music picked up and I began to belt,

" _Think of me,_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we've said gooooooooooodbye!_

_Remember me!_

_Once in a while,_

_Please promise me you'll try! _

_We never said our love was-"_

But could not finish my performance because all I saw was a giant backdrop toppling down upon me.


	3. Christine

"He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!" The chorus girls screamed.

"You idiots!" I heard Piangi roar. He rushed over to my crying "Cara! Cara! Are you hurt?" Then with a large grunt, the backdrop was off me.

"Signora! Are you alright? Buquet! Where is Buquet?" said Lefèvre as I brushed my self off.

"Is no one concerned for our Primadonna?" Piangi yelled at him.

"Get that man down here!" Lefèvre yelled to my new bosses. I was on the verge of tears. No one cared!

"Chief of flies… He's responsible for this." Lefèvre mumbled. "Buquet!" They seemed to have found him. "For God's sake, man, what is going on up there?"

"Please, monsieur, don't look at me." He yelled back. "As God as my witness, I was not at my post. Please, monsieur, there's no one there! And if there is, well then, it must be a ghost…"

"He's there: The Phantom of the Opera," said Meg Giry, the Prima ballerina. At that I started to cry. Blame a backdrop falling on me on a figment of imangination? These chorus girls must be really dimwitted.

"Good heavens, will you show a little courtesy?" and "Mademoiselle, please." Was all my new bosses could summon to tell them to stop.

"These things do happen," one of them said to me.

"Si! These things _do_ happen!" I wheeled. "Well, until you stop these things from happening, _this thing_ does not happen! Ubaldo! Andiamo!"

I rushed off stage to go cry in my dressing room. A long time passed before Piangi entered.

"Cara, they're amateurs! You so much better then them." He said.

I laughed triumphantly. "You're right! No the show can't be performed. They'll have to beg to get me back."

Piangi grimaced. "What?" I asked trying to read his face.

"The show is still being performed tonight, Cara. Christine Daaé will be performing your role."

"That little toad! A chorus girl performing my part? I doubt she can even sing well." When Piangi said nothing I got scared. "Can she?"

"Beautifully."

And I cracked. I threw a vase of roses at the corner he was standing in, but he had ducked, and it had missed him.

"Cara, I have to go rehearse." He said, slowly backing out of the room. And soon he was gone, leaving me alone to sulk.

This was probably Christine's plan all along. She and the chorus girls probably had Banquet drop that set on me. Who knows what they did to make that drunken fool do that to me. And for this Christine was going to pay.

"You got what you deserved." A deep voice whispered.

I whirled around. No one was in my dressing room. "Who's there?"

"Me off course, The Phantom of the Opera." The voice purred from no where.

"You're not real! Where are you?"

"Believe what you will mademoiselle… I'm here! I'm here! I'm here!" the voice drifting around the room. It was coming from every direction!

"Reveal yourself!"

And there he was; behind the mirror.


	4. A Kingdom

**Bonjour! Welcome back to my story! I still don't own the Phantom of the Opera... :( Welll, ENJOY!**

**-Lady StarrLight**

* * *

My mouth shamefully hung in disbelief. The Phantom of the Opera? But he's not real. I couldn't believe he now saw me show my feelings so openly. I never wanted people to truly see inside of me, especially strangers. Then why did my emotions seem to always flow so freely when the situation concern this, this- Figment?

"No, madame, I am no figment," he said darkly. How did he know what I was thinking? Who is this man?

"Come with me," he called, holding out his gloved hand for me to take. I could have sworn there was a mirror dividing the space between us a split-second ago.

I studied him for a moment, but before I realized what I had done, I had taken his hand and I was being led through the twisting maze of the catacombs.

Down we went as he led me through a strange corridor with candelabras held be hands lining the wall. I was worried my costume was to catch fire for they blocked our path. But, strangely enough, they moved so we could pass them by. We descended countless flights of stairs and journeyed through many halls before we had reached a glassy lake with a small boat bearing a skull upon the mast. The boast was awaiting…us. The Phantom soundlessly helped me aboard the small boat and soon we were moving toward the unknown.

When all the light had been consumed by the darkness, candelabras soaring above my head appeared through the mist. We had arrived at the Phantom's lair. _He must live in this beautiful kingdom._ I thought, hoping the Phantom could not truly read my mind. A magnificent organ lined the north wall with countless sheets of music littering the floor throughout the area below it. The candle light radiating from the candelabras made the water glitter in a way I had never seen light reflect before. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. After myself, of course.

I had become so engrossed in the sight of the Phantom's lair, I was shocked we had stopped. The Phantom was now standing along the shore extending his hand to me, waiting for me to come onto land.

Was this real?

"I have brought you to the seat if sweet music's throne. In this kingdom all must pay homage to music."

"Music?" I said confused. I thought this man was a ghost…

"You have com here for one purpose and one alone. Since the moment I first heard you sing… I have wanted nothing more then to be rid of you from this Opera House."

When he saw my shocked expression he chuckled and said, "Expecting praise, madame? Expect none form me."

"You don't like my voice?" I asked fearfully. "I assure you, it is quite in key and has impeccable tone."

"I assure it does not, madame. See to it that you leave your postiton at this Opera house and…" He said pondering his next thought. "Oh! Yes, never return. Goodbye."

With that finalization, he slipped beyond a black curtain, out of sight.

"Wait! NO!" I pleaded. This couldn't be happening to me! I tried to rush after him, but upon climbing the stairs to where the curtained alcove lay, I tripped over my giant Hannibal costume, in my haste, I had forgotten that I was wearing.

As I lay crumpled on the stairs, all I saw before the darkness took my heavy eyelids was the Phantom; his masked eyes burning into my flesh


	5. Hannibal

"Cara, wake up," a soft, familiar voice urged. "Cara. _Please _wake up," the voice said more urgently.

I attempted to open my eyes. I appeared successful. I was at home, my grand flat in the center of Paris.

Wait…. Home?

I shot up in my bed. Hannibal!

"Oh, good Cara, you're awake!" Piangi said cheerfully. How could he be happy" I was going to miss the show!

"Piangi!" I snapped trying to remove myself from my bed. "We're going to miss the show!"

When my feet slapped the floor, Piangi stepped in. "Whoa, there," he said, ushering me into my bed. "You're not going anywhere."

"But, the show! I'm going to miss it! And I can't-"

"The shows over!" Piangi yelled over my rambling.

"Wait…. What?" I said totally confused.

"The show's over, Cara" he said quietly. "They- um…. I preformed without you. Christine performed your part in Hannibal. The crowd _adored_ her."

Silence followed that.

"That can't be true. I had the costume."

"Cara, don't you remember anything? I found you fallen in front of the mirror in your dressing room a few hours ago. Strange thing, though, you had a rose with a black ribbon tied to it… anyways the costumers took your costume off of you and placed you in that hideous rag you're wearing now."

I looked down at my self. The shift I was wearing was an ugly oatmeal color that **did not** suit my complexion.

"It's not possible… Daddy promised me…" I said, horrified.

"What did you say, Cara?" Damn! He had heard me.

"Leave!" I screamed.

"LEAVE! NOW!"

He left, reluctantly. I instantly regretted it. He did not understand. It was not him I wanted to leave me; It was the ghosts of my past I was trying to push away.

My father, Pascal Guddicelli was a good man. His passion was to the Opéra, but his love was for his only child Carlotta. Me. One day he hoped to see me upon the stage of the Opéra Populaire. He never did. He left me when I was only eight. He left all his fortune to the Opéra Populaire. Leférre, who he had appointed his successor as manager of the Opéra, my father gave to his dying wish; to make me leading soprano at the Opéra at what ever cost. 13 years later, I have become the leading soprano for four years and have become able to support myself. But because of Leférre promise to my father, I've always doubted my talents and wondered if I even deserve my postiton. Maybe that's why I was so scared when that man had insulted me last night. Who cares what he thinks? He lives underground for God's sake!

With a heavy sigh, I laid down to rest. Mere seconds passed by before I shot up in my bed. "My father's candle


End file.
